The Family Ring
by bri617
Summary: Kensi discovers something that prompts Deeks to finally open up about his past. K/D


**A/N:** Good evening everybody :) I was overcome by the idea of writing something about Deeks' past, because we know so little about him and it really bugs me. This all happened when reading the latest analysis on Densiland. If you don't know what Densiland is, I suggest you head right over there after reading my story :) big big BIG shout-out to the absolutely amazing Gayle! Thanks again for putting so much time and effort into writing the analyses and discussing all the little things with us.

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters belong to their respective owners, and I'm clearly not making any money with this. My original characters do, however, belong to me ;) Lyrics belong to P!nk.**

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**The Family Ring**

A knock from the door wakes him up. Blinking rapidly, he tries to adjust his eyes to the glaring light coming from the lamp positioned next to his couch. There's another insistent knock on the door. Sighing loudly, he gets up from where he had passed out on the couch and begrudgingly makes his way over to the door.

He yanks the door open, only to reveal his partner, her hand caught midair, ready to knock again.

"What took you so long? I knocked like five times," she says, while pushing past him, without waiting for an invitation inside, depositing a six pack of beer in his arms. "What are we watching tonight?"

Deeks is taken aback for a second by his partner's actions before he just chuckles and shakes his head, and follows Kensi to the couch. She has already spread out various containers of Chinese food on his coffee table and claimed his favorite spot on the couch.

"Yeah, just make yourself at home," he scoffs.

That makes Kensi's head snap up to meet his gaze and take in his appearance. Barefoot, only clad in board shorts and a rumpled t-shirt, his hair even more unruly than usual.

"You were sleeping?" she asks, surprised. He nods, barely able to contain a yawn. "But it's the first Saturday of the month."

He lets out a frustrated groan. "Damn. Sorry, Kens, I totally forgot."

"I can see that." Kensi grins. "What's gotten you into bed at," she peeks at her watch, "8.05 on a Saturday night, grandpa?" She asks with a sly smile.

"Haha," he replies dryly. "Aren't you a funny one." He plops down next to her on the couch. "I was surfing all day and was just totally beat. Sorry, I forgot about tonight," he offers another apology.

She smiles at him. "It's okay. That is, as long as I can stay and we still watch a movie. There's no way I'm leaving now that I've unpacked the food." She snags a spring roll out of one of the containers and pops it into her mouth.

"Fair enough. Any preferences for the movie?" Deeks asks, while dragging himself off the couch once again.

"Nope, surprise me."

Deeks stands in front of his DVD collection contemplating the possibilities, before a content smile appears on his face.

"Got one. Drumroll please."

Kensi rolls her eyes at his request, but still plays along and drums her chopsticks against the couch table.

Deeks crunches up his nose. "Wow, well, I think we still need to work on that." The laugh that is threatening to come out dies instantly when Kensi gives him a deadly glare.

He clears his throat and proceeds in a mock commentator voice, "Without further ado, I hereby present to you the first pick of the 7th monthly 80s movies marathon: Breakfast Club. Written, produced and directed by the one, the only: John Hughes."

"You are such a dork." Kensi lets out a snort, while Deeks quickly starts the DVD and plonks down next to her.

Kensi looks over to her left, where her partner is sitting, completely engulfed in the movie. After finishing dinner, Deeks had gotten them two more beers and they had shifted on the couch so that they were shoulder by shoulder with their feet on the coffee table.  
The last scene is playing on the screen right now and Judd Nelson is walking past the goal posts on the football field. "But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain… and an athlete… and a basket case… and a princess… and a criminal. Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club." Kensi has to fight the urge to laugh out loud when Deeks mouths every word and clenches his fist next to his thigh when Judd Nelson thrusts his fist in the air.

Her smile and snarky remark die on her lips, though, when her gaze falls upon the ring on his right ring finger. She frowns. Since when did Deeks wear a ring? How had she not noticed it before? In the darkened living room with the only source of light coming from the TV where the credits are currently rolling, she could only make out the general shape. It was pretty big, maybe a class ring? A wide, golden band. No stone. Interesting.

Deeks lets out a content groan and effectively pulls her back to reality. Finally tearing her gaze away from his ring, she lets her eyes drift up to meet his.

"Admiring my hot body again, are we, princess?" He asks cheekily.

That earns him a pointed punch to the shoulder.

"Okay, a) don't call me princess and b) in your dreams," Kensi retorts quickly, extremely satisfied by the wince her punch has elicited from him.

"All the time, Kens, all the – no, please, don't punch me again," his body tenses and he holds up his hands in front of him in defense while shaking with laughter, as he realizes Kensi has already raised her fist, ready to strike again.

She narrows her eyes at him. "Okay."

"Okay. Wait, okay?" He asks, confused, peeking from behind his raised hands.

"Okay," she says nonchalantly.

He frowns at her. "Just okay? I'm afraid to ask what you expect in return for not grossly abusing me as your punching bag again."

"I want an explanation. Turn on the light," Kensi orders.

He does as he's told and reaches over to the lamp next to his couch. "Alright, what do you want an explanation for? Because, you know, I already apologized twice for forgetting about our movie night and…"

Before he can ramble on, Kensi interrupts him by grabbing his right hand. He stares at her in surprise, not at all expecting the sudden physical contact.

She lets her thumb ghost over his fingers before pausing on his ring. "You wear a ring."

His eyes shoot up from their joined hands to meet her steady, questioning look. His eyes flicker down to their fingers again, trying to cover up his momentary loss of words.

"Deeks?" Her voice is unusually soft. For once there's no humorous or mocking undertone in it.

When he finally looks up again, her eyes match her tone. No demanding or depreciating stare that she has down cold, especially when it comes to him. No, her look is a mixture of surprise, wonder and honest curiosity.

He clears his throat, never breaking eye contact. "Yeah, I, uh, I do," he croaks out. "It's a, um, a family ring."

Kensi remains silent, tilting her head slightly to one side as if to encourage him to go on, without putting too much pressure on him.

"It's the Deeks' family ring…" he trails off, searching for a way to tell his story.

"You don't have to tell me," she assures him, giving his hand a light squeeze. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be nosy, I was just surprised to see you wear it."

Deeks stares down at their still connected hands and nods slowly. "No, it's okay. I just…" He takes a deep breath and meets her gaze again. "I haven't told this story to… anyone, since I reconnected with Ray seven years ago."

"Deeks…" She seeks his gaze. "You really don't…"

"I want to," he interrupts her softly. "I… You're part of my life, Kens. I think it's time I told you about my past."

She nods slightly, knowing that he likes to open up about his upbringing, about as much as she does about hers. Briefly considering letting go of his hands, she decides against it and gives it another reassuring squeeze along with a small grateful smile.

After another deep breath, Deeks starts, "Well, you know about my dad, that I… that I shot him when I was 11. After that my whole world literally collapsed. He was away in prison and my mom, she… she couldn't… she didn't know what to do with me, and with herself. She had me when she was 16. My dad was ten years older than her and always the dominant one in their relationship. So when he was gone, she had no idea how to deal with everything. No matter what he did to her, how much he hurt her not only physically but also emotionally, and no matter what he did to me, she always loved him." He lets out a bitter, humorless laugh, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"I remember that I asked her shortly before… the shooting… I asked her why we couldn't just run away. Leave him. Be free." He pauses, running his tongue over his lips, before looking directly at Kensi. "That was the only time she ever hit me. And she yelled at me for being an ungrateful bastard, for not loving and appreciating my father and everything he did for us. For providing us with food and a home."

Kensi stares at him, completely shocked, unable to say anything. So instead, she grabs his other hand and holds both of his hands in hers. Gently stroking his knuckles with the pad of her thumbs.

He swallows hard and clears his throat once again. "I tried to run away that night, but ran straight into one of my dad's drinking buddies who hauled me back home where I got one of the worst beatings of my life."

He shakes his head slightly, like trying to shake off these horrible memories. "Uh, anyways, um, so my mom wasn't able or willing to take care of me after my dad went to prison. Without him holding her together, I guess, she fell into a deep depression and was admitted to a psychiatric hospital and I was handed over to Social Services."

"At first they had no idea what to do with me, not even bothering to try and find a foster home, so they just stuck me in a children's home with other "troubled kids". Then after about half a year, I was placed in my first foster family. That didn't go over too well. They basically kicked me out after two weeks. I was put into five more families before my 14th birthday. I just never seemed to get along with anybody. Neither the parents, nor their kids. I was always the basket case, psycho troublemaker who shot his father and whose mother was insane."

He lifts one of his hands to his face and nervously scratches his scruff, unable to look his partner in the eye when he continues his story.

"I…" He swallows hard. "I started getting into more trouble. Drinking… shoplifting…" He clenches his jaw, a pained expression on his face. "Drugs…" he murmurs, studiously avoiding Kensi's eyes.

She brings one of her hands up to his face to cup his jaw, gently brushing her thumb over his cheek, until he finally meets her gaze. Never before has she seen him look so ashamed and guilty and just heartbroken.

"Deeks." Her voice is barely above a whisper, his name lingering on her lips. Her own voice fails her, so she drops her hand back down to grab both of his tightly in hers. Letting him know that she was there to catch him. That she's there to guide him out of the darkness that is his childhood.

After a few minutes, he finally continues, his voice only a whisper. "I was at the absolute lowest point in my life. I started to be popular when we started high school, because even the older kids were kind of scared of me. For all they knew I could've snapped any second and shot them, too." He lets out a bitter laugh.

"I had a lot of 'friends' back then, and yet I had never felt more alone. Then my 6th foster family was finally fed up with my behavior and the trouble I brought into their home and so I was once again without a family."

Suddenly his lips curl into a small smile. "That's when everything changed. My 7th foster family was the first that wasn't from Reseda or Northridge. A wealthy older couple, no kids of their own. They lived in Beverly Hills, of all places, which of course took me far enough away from "home" to seriously piss me off. In Reseda, if nothing else, at least I had some respect and a reputation. In Beverly Hills, I thought I'd only be the outcast and the pet project of a bored, old, rich couple."

He shakes his head slightly. "I arrived there and was completely overwhelmed. It was a huge house, three cars, a pool. I felt like I stepped into a Hollywood movie. It was so surreal. I had a room to myself, for the first time since I shot my dad, hell, I had five rooms to myself. On the first night, Angela and Andrew sat down with me and read me the riot act. Told me that I was old enough and to get my shit together, stop smoking weed and taking other drugs, no alcohol, go to school, get good grades, actually graduate from high school. Unlike other families, they didn't threaten to throw me out, Andrew pointed at the door and said 'Kid, you can leave whenever you want, but once you walk out that door, it's closed forever and for the rest of your life you'll have to deal with the fact that you had _everything_ any kid from your neighborhood could ever dream of, and _you walked away_.'"

"God, I was _so_ pissed at them. I mean, who did they think they were? I yelled at them and called them self-righteous hypocrites and stormed toward the door. I had my hand on the door knob and turned it and I was _ready_ to leave." He pauses and a frown appears on his face.

"And then Andrew's words finally got through my thick skull and all that he's said caught up with me. They were offering me a chance. A chance to escape my past, to achieve something, to become someone. They offered me a future that literally everybody I knew would kill for. They offered me a home and a family and a stable structure for my life. In that moment all I could hear was my mother's voice in my head calling me an ungrateful bastard yet again."

He closes his eyes for a second, letting the memory wash over him. "I just sank down to my knees and cried. The whole night. I just kneeled there and cried the whole night. Coming Monday they moved to their second home on the East Coast with me, taking me as far away from my past as possible. I was enrolled in a fancy prep school and oh God, Kens, I had the hardest time. I was so behind with everything in school. It took about a year of endless studying and a few private tutors to get even close to the level that those kids had. I started playing hockey in my junior year and even got a partial scholarship. A few weeks before my 18th birthday they adopted me and I became Marty Deeks." He smiles proudly.

"Andrew was a lawyer and so as soon as I started living with them I've had always an eye on that profession. But I was always thinking that I'd never be good enough. He was my hero, so smart and eloquent and still absolutely down to earth and the funniest guy I've ever met. I graduated from Boston University and moved on to Harvard Law. He was so proud because that was also his alma mater, too. For a while there I really thought I'd be a lawyer just like him."

"When I finally graduated he came up to me, hugged me. He had tears in his eyes, saying that he has never been so proud in his entire life. He said that he thanked God every day that our paths had crossed and that I was the son he always wished he had. He took his family ring off and gave it to me, saying that when he had graduated his father had given him that ring. A family tradition. Pass down the ring to your son on the day of his graduation. I've never felt more loved or more like being a part of a real family."

His face darkens; sensing the mood shift, Kensi quickly offers him another squeeze, reminding him that she's right there. She lets her eyes wander over the family ring on his finger. The wide, golden band with a beautiful, engraved family crest that's the size of a penny. Deeks lets his left thumb ghost over the crest.

"Two weeks after my graduation from Harvard, he was killed in a mugging gone wrong. He died because of a _watch_." He closes his eyes. "They were just two thugs who had cashed in his Rolex for 200 bucks to buy drugs. They caught the guys who did it because they were high and were blurting out into the night what they'd done. They _confessed _when they were arrested but some idiot rookie had forgotten to read them their Miranda rights. There were no witnesses or any other evidence and so the case had to be dismissed because their confession was inadmissible."

He clenches his hands into fists. Kensi wordlessly puts hers on top of his, in a vain attempt of offering some comfort.

When he starts speaking again, he has tears in his eyes. "The day they got free, Angela and I moved back to LA, far away from all the sorrow. In his honor I changed my middle name from John to Andrew, leaving the last piece behind that connected me to the Brandel's. That was also when I decided to become a cop. And I swore that I would never make a mistake like that, one that lets murderers walk away because of a stupid technicality. As a lawyer I could just pick up the pieces and try to make the best of it, but I thought as a cop I could be at the base of things and really make a difference."

He closes his eyes once more and takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes again, they're clear of all the hatred and anger that were there mere seconds ago. Instead he looks somewhat relieved that he has finally shared this story with someone, with _her_. But there's also an uncertainty and tension in his eyes as if he's not sure what she'll make of his past. Scared that it could make her go running for the hills or requesting a different partner. Because, honestly, who would want to be partnered up with someone as fucked up as him.

Sensing that he's waiting for her reaction, she shifts closer to him. She lets go of his hands and moves hers up to his face to place one on each side, once again gently stroking her thumbs over his cheeks.

"Thank you, for telling me, Deeks," she whispers. "Thank you, for trusting me."

He takes hold of her wrists, steadily keeping her hands in place on his jaw, his fingers ghosting over the back of her hands.

Suddenly overcome with the urge to hug him, to be closer to him, she swings her leg over him and straddles him. One knee on each side of his hips pressed into his couch, she wraps her arms around him and pulls him as close as possible, burying her face in his neck. His hands settle gently on her back, drawing patterns all over her shirt. They sit like that for minutes, maybe hours. Who knows.

When Kensi finally draws back a bit, she places her hands on his chest, right above his heart.

"Are you still close with Angela?" She asks.

Sadness flashes across his features and he shakes his head. "She died three years ago. Cancer."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too. She was an amazing woman, so strong and she always knew exactly the right things to say. You would've liked her, she always told embarrassing stories about me in front of her friends, and even worse, in front of my friends." He smiles at the memory of her.

"She sounds like a remarkable woman. I would've loved to meet her." She pauses, before she continues, "What about you're real mom. Did you ever see her again?"

He shakes his head. "No, and to be honest I don't ever want to see her again. I mean, I don't hate her for what she did to me; I can't really hate her, right? She was just too young, too naïve, too dependent, too blind, too weak to stand up to my father or take care of me. She couldn't even take care of herself."

He studies Kensi's face for a moment, looking for _something_, before he whispers, "Why are you still here?"

She frowns. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you should have a partner that's not as fucked up as I am. And because now you _know_ that I'm just…" he trails off, before whispering, "broken. I'm just broken."

His gaze drops, he can't look at her right now. He's always refused to call himself just that but now there really seems no way around it. He sees all the mistakes he's made, all the people he's lost. All that he's achieved, beating the odds just to throw it away in the end to became an undercover cop, always mingling with the worst of the worst. Never fitting in anywhere, never finding his place in the world.

Kensi's hands suddenly cup his face again, forcing him to look at her. And all he can see is passion and determination and maybe, just maybe, a little sliver of love flashing through her fierce, beautiful, mismatched eyes.

"Deeks, look at me. I will never, _never_ leave you, do you understand? I'll always be there for you, just like I know you'll always be there for me. You're stuck with me. You're stuck with all my baggage, my past, my mistakes. And you're not broken, Deeks. Maybe a little bent, but not broken. And guess what? I'm bent, too. We're bent _together._ It's you and me against the rest of the world, partner. "

She leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to his lips to seal her promise to him. When she leans back again he stares intently at her.

"We're bent together?" he whispers disbelievingly.

She nods and leans forward, capturing his lips in another kiss, pouring all the assurance she can give him into the kiss. Trying to convey all of her feelings for him in that one kiss. Trying to make all of his doubts and fears go away. Trying to make him feel how much she needs him. How much she _loves_ him. After a few moments she can finally feel all his resolve and worry slip away. He gives into her, kissing her back with all he's worth. With all the pain, and despair and love he can offer.

She breaks the kiss and whispers, "We're not broken, just bent, and we can learn to love again."

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**A/N2:** Thanks so much for reading my story. If you liked it, please feel free to leave a review.

Don't forget to visit Densiland on Tumblr ;)


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